


Dusk

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Bad Boy Draco Malfoy, Draco rides a motorbike, F/M, Heartache, Heartbreak, Non HEA, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 02:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: For the wonderful PartyLines: Hermione contemplates the shattered ruins of her relationship with Draco Malfoy as she drives to her parents' house. Inspired by the feeling of "i'm so tired" by Lauv ft. Troye Sivan.





	Dusk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PartyLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartyLines/gifts).



> To a brilliant lady I'm proud to share a country with,
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little one-shot I put together for you. Sending all of the positive vibes your way <3 
> 
> Massive thanks to LadyKenz347 for not only coming up with the idea for the collection, but also for polishing my story. You're amazing! <3

The dull purple hues of the sky swallowed the remaining streaks of orange as she drove, leaning easily on the steering wheel to fit the curve of the road. Straightening, Hermione glanced down at the radio. The host had just announced a familiar tune and her heart plummeted towards her hips. Her insides churned, and a familiar roll of her stomach had Hermione easing off the accelerator, her foot hovering over the brake. Feverishly she checked the rearview mirror, glanced over to her blind spot, confirming that she could pull over should the urge to vomit come again.

Sweat beaded her brow and her breath came in shallow bursts as one clammy palm held the steering wheel, while the other hand scrambled to twist the volume knob to the left. The deafening quiet was almost as grating as the opening bars of music. Hermione focused on returning her heart rate to normal, forcing herself to watch the road, but her mind rebelled. It resisted her attempts to forget what she had left behind and her thoughts swirled dangerously along with the melody, dragging her back to the song which seemed to echo in the interior of the car despite the radio being muted. The same blond hair and grey eyes swam before her, the same cycle of euphoria followed by the worst pain she had ever felt in her life.

She had known when she began dating Draco Malfoy that it would more than likely end in heartache for one of them. Selfishly, she hoped it wouldn’t be her, but it seemed that she had fallen for the blond bad boy quicker and more deeply than he had fallen for her, leaving her heart vulnerable and exposed.

Hermione shuddered, her knuckles pale as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Their last argument would haunt her until her dying day. Her anger consumed her until she couldn’t recall what had prompted their row. Perhaps it was because Draco _insisted_ on going out tonight—the norm for a Friday. Hermione wished he wouldn’t; she wished he would spend more time with her rather than with his mates, getting drunk, and high, and God knows what else…

Her heart splintered, a piece falling away as she remembered the way his lips curled into a withering sneer. Despite her attempt to explain that she simply wanted to spend time with him, he accused her of suffocating him. Was a proper date too much to ask for? Draco had said she didn’t understand, that she never did, in a tone which suggested he thought she was just some stupid kid.

After that, things were a bit hazy. Hermione remembered the heat of her tears as they streaked down her cheeks, relentless and itchy as they dried in the humid air. She remembered screaming until she was hoarse, slightly bent over as she gestured wildly around her.

There had been a moment when Draco snapped, trapping her body with his against the wall. Was he going to kiss her or hurt her?

For a few pivotal seconds, his lips had hovered over hers and Hermione prepared herself for the onslaught, welcomed it, even. She longed to feel _something_ from him… anything was better than feeling like she didn’t matter. Desperately, she had tried to explain as much, but when she opened her mouth, words spilling clumsily from her lips, Draco only growled and pushed himself away from her.

He staggered backwards, his eyes alight with fury until he hit the kitchen counter. Chest heaving, Draco caught himself on the laminated surface and glared at her; he seemed to be struggling to hold back in an uncharacteristic display of restraint. Hermione ‘s hands instinctively reached for him, unsure whether she should move, her words failing her.

Finally, he took a deep breath, his grey irises swirling with conflict Hermione couldn’t understand. “I can’t do this,” he rasped, shaking his head and then running an agitated hand through his shaggy hair “And neither can you.”

“You don’t get to make that decision,” Hermione spat back, her throat tight and hot. It was nothing to do with wanting him to reconsider. There was simply a swelling pride in her that didn’t want him to feel the satisfaction of being the one to call it.

“It’s over, Princess,” he said as he moved, the slam of the back door causing her to flinch.

The roar of his motorbike threatened to deafen Hermione, but she didn’t make a move to cover her ears. A numbness traveled through her body, followed by an overwhelming, incurable rage that stole her breath. She stumbled around collecting things and shoving them in her car, beginning to formulate a plan.

The focus on _what next_ kept her mind from spiralling, and as she approached her destination, Hermione felt a gnawing feeling that something was unfinished. It clawed at her gut until she felt raw and nauseous. She swallowed thickly as she eased her foot onto the brake, indicating as she approached the intersection.

_No,_ she told herself sternly. _Let him go._

As she rounded the corner, her childhood home came into view, the street lined with freshly greened trees. It was a small, two-storey dwelling, a patch of green grass out the front. In the garage she could make out her mother’s sedan and her father’s work van, but there on the curb was another vehicle… one she recognised all too well.

As she pulled into the driveway, she noted the way his lips pulled into a knowing smirk; her eyes narrowed and she swore colourfully under her breath. Hermione couldn’t decide whether she was running hot or cold as she took in the arrogant blond leaning against his shiny motorcycle, one foot crossed over the other.

She cranked the handbrake, squeezing her eyes shut and heaving a ragged breath as she attempted to calm herself. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, slamming the car door with more force than strictly necessary.

“I’m trying to prove a point,” he said softly, his gaze steady on the lawn beneath his boot-clad feet.

“What point?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and earning herself a glimpse of his pale features in the moonlight.

“That I do care… about you.”

“Could have fooled me.” She sniffed, folding her arms across her chest and stepping back slightly.

“Listen, I know I’m a bastard,” he said, still looking at his toes. “And I know that you deserve better, but… apparently I’m a selfish and possessive bastard. And the thought of you not being mine? Well, it…” He trailed off, a growl rumbling deep within his chest.

Hermione sighed, blinking a few times in an attempt to quell the burning in the back of her eyes, a telltale sign of traitorous tears, as if she had any more tears left to give him. “Why don’t I believe you?” she whispered, finally forcing her gaze upwards.

He looked at her, searching her face, for what, she wasn’t sure. “I wish you would,” he said, “because I’m telling the truth.”

“Then say it,” she said, her tone venomous.

Draco paled, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I can’t—”

“Then leave.” She shook her head, willing her voice not to crack. “And don’t come back.”

For a long moment they stared at each other. This was familiar territory for Hermione; often engaging in a battle of wills, that if Hermione was honest, Draco usually won... But she was determined that he wouldn’t this time; this time was about more than just a silly opinion, and she realised with a jolt that this lack of commitment, his unwillingness to be vulnerable with her, was the crux of most—if not all—of their problems.

“You know I do,” he breathed, stepping forward and capturing her hips with his warm hands.

He smelled like leather and cologne and something unmistakably _Draco_ ; Her eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Subconsciously, she leaned into him.

It would be easy, too easy, really, to allow him this, to let him get away with not giving her what she desperately needed yet again. But this time was different, she realised as she stood there. Her cup was empty. There was nothing left to give. If he wasn’t willing to replenish her depleted stores, then there really wasn’t any point in continuing the farce they had been parading around as a relationship for the past year.

“No,” she croaked, pushing away from him.

“No?” He frowned down at her, confusion evident in the crease of his brow.

“I can’t, Draco,” she whispered. She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. “I need more than what you’re willing to give me.”

“Princess—”

“Don’t!” She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Please, just leave. You said it, we’re done. I want you to go.”

When she opened her eyes, Draco was peering at her with an odd look on his face. “You knew what kind of person I was going in, Hermione,” he said solemnly.

A jolt of electricity ran up her spine as her given name fell from his lips. It was so rare that he said it; he prefered using pet names, like Princess, Love, and Babe… New tears sprang to the corners of her eyes and she blinked them back.

“Yes,” she agreed shakily. “I did. Silly me.”

He sighed. “Are you sure? Because if I go, I’m not coming back.”

“That’s sort of the point.” She gestured over her shoulder with a nod of her head. “But if you ever do find the courage to tell me how you feel, I hope you’ll come and find me.”

He nodded once and then turned on his heel. Hermione stepped back, giving him enough room to mount his bike. He started the engine and Hermione cringed, fighting the urge to place her hands over her ears. Perhaps if her eardrums burst, the burning pain in her heart would be masked.

As the revs settled, she turned to watch as Draco steered the bike so that he could take off down the street. “Don’t hold your breath, Princess.”

And with that parting quote, he was gone.

 


End file.
